


Bereavement and the Emotional Ramifications Thereof - A Case Study

by meowloudly15



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, In Memory of Fred Willard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowloudly15/pseuds/meowloudly15
Summary: Death is a challenging subject matter, even for a four-year-old college graduate. Oneshot.
Kudos: 1





	Bereavement and the Emotional Ramifications Thereof - A Case Study

“Pop-Pop passed away yesterday.”

Lisa stared blankly at her bereaving maternal unit. Rita dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes with the back of her hand, then continued, “I understand if this news comes as a surprise to you-”

“No, no,” interrupted Lisa. “It is unprecedented, certainly, but I am less bewildered than I am simply trying to absorb the information.”

It was indeed a lot of information to absorb. Lisa of course knew of the concept of death and its tendency to have a significant negative emotional impact on others, but she had never before considered it on a personal level. She had never before needed to do so.

With Pop-Pop’s surcease, a significant quantity of events in her life would be permanently altered. There would be no further need for visits to Sunset Canyon Retirement Home. There would be no more Snipe calls. Myrtle would never truly become Gran-Gran. Lisa and her siblings would have to don formal attire and attend a wake and a funeral and watch his coffin be lowered into his grave. There would be various legal and pecuniary machinations, extending for weeks or possibly even months. She would never get to show him her research in instantaneous spatial displacement (street name: teleportation); nor would any of her siblings be able to show him any of their further accomplishments.

Lisa was acutely aware that a void had opened in her life, though she did not feel sad per se. She was grateful that she didn’t. In her opinion, emotions were frivolous.

She glanced at her mother, who was sitting on Lisa’s bed, blowing her nose into a Cleanex. It made sense that Rita would grieve over this issue; after all, Pop-Pop was her own paternal unit. Children were societally expected to feel sorrow over the demise of their guardians. And yet, at the same time, it was strange for Lisa to see her mother so distraught. Adults were not supposed to wear their emotions on their sleeves, no matter the circumstances. At least, Lisa preferred it when adults didn’t do so. Okay, maybe she preferred it when feelings were neglected altogether. Pathos was no substitute for the unblemished certainty inherent in logos.

She couldn’t just let Rita feel so much, could she.

“Mother? I note that you are in distress. Are there any measures I may take to aid the restoration of your emotions to baseline?”

“No, Lisa,” Rita replied, her voice quavering. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but your science won’t help right now.”

Lisa nodded slowly. If her mother would not be receptive of what little assistance she could offer, it would be for naught anyway. But why allow oneself to experience emotions?

“When you were born,” Rita began, “Pop-Pop was the first person to hold you who wasn’t me or your father. When I was going into labor, we called him on my cell phone as Lynn drove me to the hospital. He rushed right over from his house - this was before he moved into the retirement home. He waited with the other kids in the waiting room. After you were born, he practically ran inside, but Lori had to remind him that he had to stay with your siblings until after your father left. Pop-Pop cried when Lori was born, and he cried when you were born. He said to me, ‘You would think I would be more used to it after all these times.’”

Rita chuckled hollowly, then blew her nose. “I remember when we called him and told him that I was pregnant with you. He said, ‘Oh no, not again!’ Then he rushed to my mom’s bedside to pass her the phone. I remember Dad telling me at a later date that he didn’t think your Gran-Gran would live to see you. As it turned out, she passed away three months before you were born. Mom was very smart, and she read constantly. She’s the one who told me I should write a book someday. I like to think, when she died, her smartness left her brain and went right into yours.” She poked Lisa right between the eyes.

Lisa blinked hard. “Why are you sharing this information unprompted, especially considering that it is accelerating the positive feedback loop that is your state of grief?”

Rita looked her daughter in the eyes. “Because I want to remember the good times that I shared with my father. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“W-well, I-” Lisa stammered out. She couldn’t exactly tell her maternal unit that her emotional state was pointless, not at the risk of causing her further emotional distress, but her desire to state only factual information was in conflict with that urge.

Luckily, Rita spoke before she could say anything, whether rash or not. “What are your favorite memories of Pop-Pop?”

Lisa thought for a moment. “I always took pleasure in our bimonthly family video conversations. Pop-Pop has - had an impressive repertoire of stories from his tenure in the armed forces.”

She contemplated the impact that her maternal grandfather had had on her life. Pop-Pop had shared with her the worth of tales of bygone days and an appreciation of tradition. He had been an obstinate, diligent man, and Lisa had learned from him how to dedicate oneself to a goal. He had also been very caring, though she was less objectively certain of the value inherent in said character trait.

Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes, but she strove her hardest to suppress them.

Lisa continued, “Twenty-nine days ago, during Pop-Pop’s monthly visit, he expressed disappointment at not being able to view the outcome of my research in instantaneous spatial displacement when it reaches completion 73 years hence. At the time, it seemed to me that he would live forever, given his impressive health, despite such a sentiment being logically impossible. I engaged in research regarding lifespan prolongment measures, but Pop-Pop found them restrictive, and, we ultimately concluded that, that he still had plenty of life ahead of him, and, he should, he should, make, make the most, of, his-”

The dam burst, and Lisa broke down crying. Rita reached over to comfort her, but Lisa swatted her arm away. She considered throwing an infantile fit and storming up to her room, but she was already in it. Instead, she rushed out of her room, ignoring her parental unit’s pleas, and barged into the first room she came across, slamming the door behind her.

Lori was sitting on her bed, mascara running in black rivulets down her cheeks. Her arm was around Leni, who managed to look both confused and distraught. They both started when the door slammed shut. Lisa stood in front of it, tense, struggling to stifle her sobs.

“What’s the matter?” asked Leni.

Lisa didn’t respond; she wouldn’t so much as meet their eyes.

“Did you hear the news?” asked Lori.

Lisa turned aside and sat down in the corner, facing away from her siblings.

There was a moment of silence, the priceless commodity that is silence, broken by the squeaking of bedsprings and soft footsteps padding across the carpeted floor.

“Lisa,” said Leni, laying a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, you can talk to us.”

Lisa swatted her elder sibling’s extremity away. “No. Do not initiate conversation with me at this moment.”

Lori gently but firmly turned the little girl around so she was facing her sisters. Lisa averted her eyes. “Talk to us, please. We want to help you. We can’t do that unless we know what you’re feeling.”

A wave of outrage surged up in Lisa’s mind. “No! Emotions are burdensome and unpredictable and irrational and all-around purposeless! I should not be feeling this way! I should not be feeling! I must remain logical! I MUST!”

She clenched her jaw to keep herself from screaming. Tears dripped down her face. She wiped her nose and hid her head in her hands. Why did she have to feel so much about emotions? Why did she have emotions? Why couldn’t she restrain them? Why? A brilliant mind like hers, unable to tame and temper itself? Unreasonable! Unthinkable! There had to be a way! There had to be!

She took a deep breath, then began quietly reciting the beginning of one of her favorite pieces of poetry, to calm herself down.

“If you can keep your head when all about you / Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, / If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you / But make allowance for their doubting too;”

“Lisa,” interrupted Leni, “you know I’m not totes sure what you mean, but, like, it seems to me that you’re very sad, and you’re very mad that you’re very sad.”

Lisa looked up cautiously. Leave it to Leni to put something so complex into terms so readily digestible. She didn’t have much faith in Leni’s capability to dispense much more sage advice, but she was at the very least open to listening.

Leni continued, “I don’t like being sad, either. But, like, it happens, right? I don’t know why, but I think it happens for a reason. And once it’s over, at least you’re not sad anymore. Being happy is great because, like, you’re not sad in it!

“Uh, I guess what I mean is, like, you’re sad now, sadly. We all are. We shouldn’t not try to be sad now, cuz it’s for a reason. But we can be sad together. That’s what family’s for, right? And, then, maybe we can be a little less sad cuz we’re being sad together.” Leni smiled warmly.

Lisa pondered on Leni’s words, simplistic as they were. Could emotions have a purpose? She didn’t see how they possibly could.

Her mind drifted to Aristotle’s modes of persuasion: logos, ethos, and pathos. The great Greek philosopher had not neglected ethics or emotions in his treatise on rhetoric. Perhaps human minds were so fallible as to perceive all three as equals. Or perhaps it was she who was incorrect? Though she was loath to admit it, it was always a possibility.

She decided to do the logical thing and ask for a second opinion.

“What is the reason?”

“I don’t know,” Leni admitted. She looked at Lori expectantly.

“Uh, I, I’m not sure why people get sad either. I, uh, I think it’s because we’re human. We feel sad about things. I don’t think that’s a problem. I think it’s literally just how we are. I don’t think we can change that, and I don’t think we should.”

So. It was because humans were human, whatever that meant. Did Lori mean that humans were inherently flawed? It seemed that they were. They didn’t live forever. They weren’t always rational. They had strange quirks and beliefs, like Rita had about Lisa’s intellect being inherited from her deceased grandmother.

An old memory, one she hadn’t thought about in quite some time, rose to the surface of her brain. Though she didn’t know exactly why, she decided to voice it.

“I have a memory - though it is likely not a memory, given that its subject expired before my birth. I can remember looking down at the porch of Pop-Pop’s old house and viewing a smiling lady in a turtleneck and a long floral print skirt. She sat in a rocking chair with a book in her hands. Given my second-hand knowledge of her, I believe this lady to be Gran-Gran, though I cannot say for sure from where the knowledge of her appearance came.

“I am pessimistic about the existence of an afterlife, as you already know, and this false memory is likely a product of an overactive imagination, for we are flawed, as you have said previously; but I can’t help but wonder.”

Lori smiled. “You might be right.”

Lisa pondered on the flawed memory, a reminder of her flawed human nature. Humans were flawed, as the rule. That was why death existed. That was why emotions existed, and arguments, and gullibility, and greed, and a thousand other forms of human error. To err is indeed human. She didn’t like that. She hated that she could make mistakes, that she would grieve, that people would die at exactly the wrong instances and thereby be the cause of bereavement.

But maybe, just maybe, in order to repair the mistakes, she could try analyzing them. That was how she solved the flaws in her experiments and robots and research in instantaneous spatial displacement. Perhaps the same was possible for humans? After all, Lisa knew that she was merely a very complex machine, as were all living creatures. There was indeed a lot of information to absorb, but she had faith in her capability to do it.

Perhaps there was a way to fix herself, to free herself from feeling. She didn’t want to think about there not being one.

But, then again, maybe that was what family was for.

Lisa allowed herself to be hugged by Lori and Leni. She allowed herself a small smile as their prolonged gentle pressure on her physical form released some of her built-up tension. It would come back, she knew. It was not a permanent fix. Humans were not permanent. She knew that all too well.

But memories could be.

She closed her eyes and let her imagination work. In her mind, her imperfect mind, Lori and Leni changed into Pop-Pop. He hugged her tightly, as he always did. He whispered, “I love you, sweetie,” into her ear, before she opened her eyes again.

Lisa looked at her siblings hesitantly. She didn’t want them to grieve, either. But perhaps there was something she could do to help them remember the good times, and maybe even alleviate a bit of sadness.

“What are your favorite memories of Pop-Pop?”

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal rest grant unto Fred Willard. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.


End file.
